- Particulate Matter
Part of me participating in the day's particles and part of me
elsewhere. I feel stippled. A person made of Pointillism. Pixilated.
All my dots have looked, I think, like a whole and present person to
the people who surrounded me – the people with whom I talked as I
passed out library flyers for the Jugglemania guy and the blood
drive. All around the town I went. “Would you be willing to post
one for us?” “Thank you!” They didn't see my pixels. My points.
My dots of color quivering and ready to fall quietly apart.
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